Bonnie's Dance
by bluesimageburgundy
Summary: Damon catches Bonnie dancing in her room. Short season 7 drabble. Bamon. Belvafore.


Damon placed the last bottle of bourbon back onto the recently dusted shelf in the living room. He reached up to turn it just so with the label pointing out, smiling at the warm amber color glowing in the lamplight. He picked up the empty wooden crate that had housed the bottles of booze and began walking toward the cellar door.

 _Home sweet home_ , he thought. It had been a while. The European Tour had done him good. Even with Bonnie tagging along and frying his brain every few hours, albeit deservedly so. And Ric was, and continued to be, a walking, drinking disaster. Still yet it had been cleansing. The change of scenery. Coming home to find out that their house was being rented for free by the fucking Witchpires of all people…well, that had been less than cleansing.

With no small amount of bloodshed, on both the parts of the Witchpires and the good townsfolk of Mystic Falls, they were back home and still trying to return the place to its former splendor. Stefan had cleaned up Caroline's blood from his bedroom floor and hosed off what was left of the person who had shed said blood from the front porch. Damon had replaced the bourbon. All was right with the world.

Something caught his ear on the way to the cellar. A rhythmic movement of fabric against skin, the slow faint beat, the shuffle of dainty bare feet on hundred year old refinished hardwood. And it was coming from Bonnie's room. He smirked. Catching each other dancing had been one of their favorite games to pass the time in 1994. Damon placed the crate on the ground and made his way toward Bonnie's room.

Bonnie and Caroline had moved back in right along with him and Stefan. They all agreed that it made more sense. Easier to do the daily headcount of who's still alive when everyone is in the same place. So Caroline made a big production of not moving into the Stefan's room but choosing her own room, which she then proceeded to never step foot in. And Bonnie chose her room from 1994. Damon knew she would. He had walked by one day to see that she placed her perfume bottle and hairbrush in the exact same spot on the exact same antique dresser. She was a creature of habit.

Which was why he expected her to be jumping around to the top 40 radio countdown and singing into a hairbrush while her toenails dried like she usually was. What he didn't expect was to find her dancing. Really dancing. Seriously dancing. With earbuds plugged into her phone, playing some slow, but thick and beat-heavy 90s R&B song. And her lamp turned down low and her tank top pulled up to reveal her stomach, shimmering with a thin layer of sweat, the smell of which was sweet like her sugary perfume but with a depth added from the warmth of her skin and it tickled in his nose and throat in the most unusual way.

Damon watched through the cracked door from the dark hallway into the only slightly brighter room where his best friend was dancing. Moving in ways he'd never seen her move. And he felt like a criminal and a deviant watching her, even more so than usual, not that that had ever stopped him before. She ran her hands through her hair, down her sides, over her hips. And had they always had just a swell to them? Damon swallowed, an unfamiliar feeling creeping over him. Not necessarily unfamiliar, but unfamiliar when it came to Bonnie.

He stood stock-still, narrowing his eyes as he continued to watch. She leaned over her bed and placed her hands on the blanket, pushing her hips out and back in and rolling her ass around slowly to the beat she thought only she could hear. Damon's face felt warm, his fangs tingling. She stood and straightened her back, turning away from him. His eyes fixated on the sweat kissed dimples on her lower back above her low rise, criminally tight black pants, if you could even call them pants. They did nothing but accentuate her round behind as she slowly crouched, spreading her legs and running her hands down her thighs before standing again. Damon felt a surge of blood rush through his body at the sight and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

Damon sensed Stefan walk up behind him but did nothing to indicate that he knew he was there, instead keeping his eyes fixated on Bonnie's hypnotic movements. He was aware that he should be ashamed of being a creeper, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What are you doing?" Stefan asked.

"What is SHE doing?" Damon asked, sincerely curious, not looking back at Stefan.

Stefan watched Bonnie for a moment before answering.

"Hmmm….I'd say….yep, she's definitely dancing," Stefan said with a sarcastic nod.

"Yeah, but why is it all…." Damon moved his hands around, struggling to find the word he was looking for.

"Sexy?" Caroline asked, appearing behind Stefan, resting her chin on his shoulder and watching Bonnie dance with a smile.

"I guess some would say that," Damon said with a sneer, "But why is she doing it?"

Stefan chuckled and shook his head at his clueless brother.

"Hot girl dances like a hot girl, I'll alert the presses," he teased, slapping a hand down on his brother's shoulder.

"She's taking that dance class, you pervs," Caroline added.

"What class?" Damon asked.

"That creative dance class that she's been talking about for months," Caroline said, rolling her eyes.

"It helps to listen," Stefan suggested, watching another moment before turning to walk toward his own room.

"Why don't you ever dance for me like that?" Caroline jokingly asked Stefan as she followed him to his room, Stefan answered her with a surprised chuckle.

Damon rolled his eyes. They were so damn adorable. It drove him crazy.

His attention returned fully to Bonnie. She was completely focused on her dance. And doing an amazing job of it. He knew she was determined, goal-oriented. But he'd never seen it used on something so casual, so human. Something not life-or-death. And she looked good. She looked free. And, to be perfectly honest, she looked hot as hell and it surprised him that he'd never really paid attention to it before.

Bonnie ran her palms down the sides of her breasts again, down over her flat stomach, hips and thighs. Damon ignored the twitch in his pants, had to ignore it. With a final roll of her hips, the song ended and she was finished. She was breathing slightly heavier and it sounded good on her. He watched as she pulled her damp hair off of her neck and wrapped an elastic around it. It still hadn't occurred to him that he should probably make a run for it.

"Enjoy the show?" she asked, taking off her earphones, turning off her phone and tossing it aside, not looking up.

"I…uh…" Damon stammered, emerging from the shadows and pushing her door open slightly.

Bonnie arched an eyebrow at him and smirked.

Damon narrowed his eyes at her cocky attitude.

"Don't pretend like you didn't want me to walk in on you, Witchy," he attempted, trying to keep his eyes off her deliciously damp midsection as lamplight glinted off of it.

Bonnie rolled her eyes but Damon noticed that she didn't deny his accusation.

"Yeah, well, next time I'm charging," she teased, brushing past him and walking toward the bathroom.

"Oh come on, I don't pay unless the top comes off," he called toward her, ignoring the sweet assault of her smell on his senses.

He was rewarded with a tiny, and again, well deserved, aneurysm.


End file.
